


Lost Boy

by Kanta



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Child Abuse, Child Eren Yeager, Drug Abuse, Foster Care, M/M, Neighbors, POV Eren Yeager, Sexual Tension, Verbal Abuse, adopted Eren, boy next door, ereri, fluff too, riren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanta/pseuds/Kanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story neither begins nor ends happily.<br/>The world still spins, a single event doesn't stop the evolution of time.<br/>It may create a ripple in the water; that's how life works.<br/>One day, the hope my mind takes refuge in may not exist anymore.<br/>But the sun always sets in the West.<br/>And that is one thing I can always rely on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Then

**Author's Note:**

> Expect the chapters to be short for the first little while, maybe by the fourth or third chapter they will become longer. wee~

* * *

This story neither begins nor ends happily.

The world still spins, a single event doesn't stop the evolution of time.

It may create a ripple in the water; that's how life works.

One day, the hope my mind takes refuge in may not exist anymore.

But the sun always sets in the West.

And that is one thing I can always rely on.

* * *

xxx

The first snowfall of 2006 took place on a chilly day in mid November. The children around me had gloves to warm their chilly fingers, colourful jackets that served as armor against the sharp sting of the cold against bare skin. Some kids looked overjoyed about the snow, glancing up at the falling flakes and squealing (more like shrieking, honestly) once the small white web landing on their red cold bitten nose as if they've never experienced this weather before. There were others who looked to me like Penguins, waddling around because they cold seemed to have frozen them, or perhaps they looked like a turtle; with their necks retracted into their coat. Overall, some were grumpy, others were overjoyed. Then there was me. I was only worrying about the snow getting into the trailer through the hole in the roof. Because I could very much doubt that my mom had covered it up like she had claimed to do countless amounts of times before.

But I was forgiving, because I was only nine years old at the time, and I hadn't even realized why my mother was so inconsistent day in and day out. Maybe she is tired -- I would think -- she is always tired.

Now because it was home time (school had been over for maybe five minutes, the snow had distracted myself along with many other kids) I started to do my own waddle over to the overly bright yellow school bus. It must have been quite new, I was proud of my neighbours for being able to afford such a large vehicle. But I was also proud of myself, for becoming friends with the bus drivers grandson. Because now I had a ride to school. I didn't have to suffer the walk on such cold days.

"Afternoon Mr. Arlert. Is this a new bus? It smells new," I inquired with curiosity that could be sniffed out from a field away. "Looks new too. the colour isn't so orange anymore. I like it, thank you for the ride," Then my butt made friends with the (leather, was it?) of the first row seat. It was reserved especially for me, behind Mr. Arlert, so I could speak with him as he drove. Sometimes he wouldn't answer, though, so I answered for him in my head as I did when mom didn't reply. Adults just didn't seem to like to converse for some odd reason. "Armin wasn't here today. Is he sick? That's too bad, maybe I'll walk over later, I feel like my wiggly tooth is about to fall out. I'd like to show him,"

And because Mr. Arlert was not driving at the moment since most kids still had not boarded the bus, he had replied with a slightly gruff sounding voice. "Mhm. Poor boy's caught the flu," With that said, the last few children boarded the bus and Mr. Arlert let the bus's engine roar to life, conquering any conversations anyone was having in the vehicle.

The ride back home was always an adventure to my child mind, when I wasn't speaking to Mr. Arlert, my attention was out the window. Every day something new was on the side of the road; a new weed, or a rock had been overturn, maybe a dead animal laid in the street, but something always was different. That was what I could count on during these drives home. When the bus sped over a pothole, I sometimes jumped from my seat and that sent thrilling butterflies to my stomach. It was always so excitable, always the best time of the day.

As opposed to that, the worst part of the day was hopping off the bus (after thanking and waving to Mr. Arlert of course) and walking through the grassy field to my trailer home. It was quite small, only had three rooms: a kitchen, living room, and a bedroom. The smell was already registered as normal to my nose, but if a stranger had walked in their noses would scrunch up in disgust at the stench. Mom was always in her room, the door never locked though. I would creak open the door just wide enough for my small body to fit through and I'd fly up onto the bed as if I were Peter Pan, landing on the semi soft mattress that was bare of blankets and only held my mom on top.

Her hair was pulled over her right shoulder (or so I thought, I still hadn't gotten down my directions at the time) in a messy side pony tail. At one point it might've been neat, but it was frizzy then, some of her hair at come loose of the rubber band used to make the pony tail. Mom would never look directly at me unless I crawled over to her and looked into her eyes. Sometimes she sat at the edge of the mattress, but sometimes she laid back on it as she was this day.

"Ma, it's snowing outside. Come and catch the snow on our tongues with me," She didn't give me a response until I grabbed her bony hand and dragged her out of bed. Once her feet were on the ground there was no stopping her, mom was out the trailers door without me. Easily I caught up with her uneven steps, and we were both standing under the fall of the snow. "Isn't it nice mom?"

"It's nice," And that was the only response from her I'd get for the day, the dry sound of a voice that seemed so unfamiliar, though familiar at the same time. At that moment, when I was nine, I hadn't realized the shell of a person my mother had become. I only thought she was always tired.

When later that evening I had murmured to my mom that I was hungry, she put a frozen pancake in the microwave and I ate it joyously. Regularly mom never made me food. Only on occasion, when she wasn't so /tired/.


	2. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We take a look at where Eren is now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will be split into "then" and "now". it'll take a look into Eren's past and future and will switch every chapter.

It was November of 2009 and I was eleven years old, taking residence at the Braus family household. They were a bunch of brunettes (I belonged in that aspect) who ate a whole lot of food. The amount they ate in on meal was more than what I had in a month, or maybe several even, when I lived with my mother. But that was so long ago now, three years I believe. It's all so hard to remember so I tried not to.

There wasn't snow outside today, it had melted this morning so the grass was wet, the dogs dump piles were hard and stuck to the ground as I tried to scoop them up. That was my job; dealing with the dogs shit. And it wasn't all that bad. It distracted me for the most part, but I tried to finish the job quickly since it was still very much cold, the wet grass was starting to freeze and crunch under my feet.

This morning Mrs. Braus had told me that she had a friend coming over at around noon, or anytime after lunch. At the time I didn't understand why she even bothered to tell me, it wasn't my friend who was coming over. Though I never had friends over, so that thought really wasn't relevant.

Apparently I was still outside scooping up the dog dump when noon rolled around because I saw a truck drive up the slippery hill into our driveway. I had saw that same truck maybe five minutes ago, whoever inside must have missed the house number.

I watched as the wheels slipped on the ice and the truck rolled down the steep hill of the driveway. This happened several times before whoever was inside decided to just fuck it and park on the road. Smart move, the icy hill was a tough one to defeat.

Minutes passed and the person inside the truck didn’t start climbing up the hill so it was safe to assume that they went in the front entrance, the one that we surprisingly never used. So I had to finish up scooping the dog shit before I was summoned inside to greet the stranger.

After I was done, I threw the small scoop shovel next to the shed and made my way inside, where the furnace was on and quickly thawed out my frozen fingers. Inside smelt of dog fur, old wood, and paint. But honestly it was better than what it smelt like at the trailer I lived in for a good few years, I didn’t mind it as a young kid though. I didn’t know how toxic it was.

“Oh there he is, Eren! Come into the living room, will you? Meet our guest,” I heard Mrs. Braus’s voice ring throughout the house, bouncing off the walls in such a cheery way that almost made me sick. Or jealous, I couldn’t understand how some people were just so happy while I felt the opposite. Perhaps I was just an angsty young teen, but still, I found it strange how the Braus family were so happy all the time.  
  
Anyways, I made my way over to the average sized living room as my thoughts amused myself. The dog was at my feet as she usually was, following me until I stopped in the living room, in front of a man who sat on the leather couch. For just a few seconds I observed him; dark brown hair that went only a half inch past his shoulders, thin rimmed circular glasses, flecks of facial hair on his chin and jaw. He looked relatively nice, the corners of his eyes wrinkled as he smiled at me. It was a warm smile that somehow set me at ease. “So you’re the boy I’ve been hearing all about?” The man spoke up and I only nodded as a response.

A few seconds passed by, the man obviously expected me to speak, so I let slip whatever words that were on the tip of my tongue. “What’s your name sir?” And he laughed, lightly, merrily even. It was strange, but made my lips curl up into a small smile. “Grisha Jaeger, and it’s very nice to meet you, Eren,”

At the time I wouldn’t have suspected more of this man, he was simply my Foster parents friend, but somehow a few months later, he became more involved with my life.

On saturday’s he took me out for lunch and treated me to bowling or another activity. He taught me how to spell his last name, saying that it would be mine too soon. I remember the first time he had me write it down; we were at Montana’s, the restaurant that my Foster parents frequently visited, and I wrote it on the paper table cover along with my stupid doodles of spongebob and squidward.

“What do you think about adoption, Eren? Has it been an option for you?” Grisha asked just as I finished chewing. We were at Kelsey's now, it wasn’t my favourite but it still was pretty great.  
  
“Uh. Well I don’t really mind the idea. It would be nice to not move anymore though,” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand after speaking. From all the hints the man had been dropping, I suspected he was considering the idea of adopting me. Maybe that would be a good thing, he seemed nice, and didn’t do drugs. That was up to my standards.  
  
“I’ve been considering it for a while now and I have decided that I want to adopt you. Would you like that? I have a nice house in a friendly neighbourhood, the school nearby is only a five minute walk,” Ah, I knew he was going to ask that. It was strange though, his description of what could be my home didn’t convince me to say yes. It was his hopeful smile. “Plus a boy around your age just moved in, in the next house over. Perhaps when /if/ you visit my house to have a look around, you can introduce yourself. How does that sound?”

I thought about this offer over a few bites of my steak before I nodded slowly. “I’d like that sir, I’d really like that,”  
  
And so, that was where the next chapter of my life began.

Grisha adopted me in the month of December, right before Christmas. The snow fell outside of my new rooms window as I took in the scent of the house. It was a calm space, the only noise came from the dog that was sleeping at the foot of the stairs. I believed I could find myself calling this place home soon, it didn’t seem forced or rushed, Grisha didn’t push me to call him dad, he simply smiled when I asked about it over a home cooked dinner one night on the tenth of December, and said that I could call him whatever I liked.

And so I kept with Grisha for the time being.


	3. Then

“I’m going out,” My attention was turned from the small antenna television that sat right on the floor before me when I heard my mom’s voice sounding behind me. With wide childish eyes I looked up at her, taking in the attire she was wearing. To me, she was always beautiful, even with the sores on her lips and her oily hair matted down against her head, but at nights like this one, she was other worldly. A goddess in a tight shining dress that hugged her hips and thighs, heels taller than my longest finger, with her hair washed and beautiful in that simplistic side pony. My mother was an interesting person, she could change completely in the span of a half hour. From a dopey goblin to a stunning goddess, I’d say.

“Okay ma,” I said with a wide smile, at the time I was hoping she’d notice my missing tooth at the bottom of my mouth, but she did not. Mom hardly noticed anything, she was more oblivious than a tiny pup. “Where are you going?”   
  
“To work,” She replied simply as she walked over to the thin door, the only way to enter or exit the trailer. I could see the tips of her heels sinking into the carpet, making mom’s ankles wobble. Soon enough she had made it out the door without another word. Typical mom.

I stood from the fluffy carpet and quickly went over to the window and watched as mom walked along the grass, then down the long stone driveway that went on for so long. Eventually she was out of sight, so I sighed and crouched down in front of the television and turned it off with a click.

She had never mentioned anything about dinner, so it was my job to provide for myself yet again.

Sometimes I would go over to the neighbours who lived a few acres away,  across the field of yellow, crunchy leafy plants our trailer home was parked beside. But at times like these, when I was far too hungry to walk so long, I wondered out of the trailer with the door wide open behind me, and I went over to the field across the lane.

In my childish ignorance, I forgot that it was winter. So when I got to the field that was once rich with stalks of corn, I was surprised to see the empty rows. Somehow it made my small stomach groan in protest of our findings.

“Sorry stomach… no dinner today. Maybe tomorrow,” I had whispered softly as I cradled my stomach with cold and shivering arms. With no coat and shoes I was freezing, so I hobbled my way back to the trailer, where at least it was warm.

By the time mom got home, I had already cried myself to sleep in her bed, the pain in my stomach hurt and I felt alone, so utterly alone. And it was the worse feeling in the world. So when I woke up the next morning, with mom’s skinny arms holding me to her chest, the smell of something foul on her breath.. I was happy enough to smile. This time it wasn’t to show off my missing tooth. Mom was holding me, she rarely did this. It made me feel loved.

“Mama..,” I whispered softly to her, my small hand reaching up and pressing against her warm cheek. She was still flushed, I didn’t know from what. Perhaps she smiled too much at work, smiling always made me feel warm and happy. That would explain why she was holding me like this. “Ma I’m hungry..,”   
  
“Mmhm.. sleep Eren..,” She mumbled and took my hand from her warm cheek, dropping it back to the bed. Mom didn’t like to be touched.

“But I’m hungry.. my stomach hurts..,”   
  
“Get something from the fridge,”   
  
“We ran out of food three days ago,” I started to sniffle, holding the tears that blurred my vision back. “Mama please..,” 

“Go ask the neighbours,” She told me then let go of my small shaking body. I was crying next to her as she turned away from me, my hot tears replacing the warmth she was giving me just seconds ago.

“O-Okay.. I’ll bring you food too..,” I whispered to her in a broken voice as I climbed out of the bed.

The tears kept on coming as I pulled on my winter jacket, and the worn down boots I usually wore. I wanted to taste mom’s cooking again.. it had been so long since she’s done that for me. But I forgave her, I knew she was always tired. I shouldn’t have burdened her more like that. So I scolded myself all the way over to the neighbours home that lived a few acres away, across our dead cornfield that was riddled with snakes in the summer. I would say it took about a half hour for me to arrive at their front door. And once I was there I rang the doorbell.

The first few times I had to do this, I cried in embarrassment. Asking for food from strangers didn’t feel right to me but I had no other choice. And this family was kind enough to allow me to take some of their food. Now when I do it, I only feel a bit of my pride going away. Not that I had much in the first place.

“Oh, Eren, we haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Come on in sweetheart, what’s the matter?” The lady who opened the door ushered me inside with a small worried smile.

“Mama didn’t get any food and the cornfield is dead,” I explained in a small voice, trying not to let my emotions get the best of me as they always did.

“Mm well this is perfect timing then, we just had dinner made. How about you join us?”   
  
“Yes please.. is Armin home?”

“He is, he’s at the dinner table. Now hurry along we don’t want the chicken getting cold,”   
  
“Chicken?! I haven’t had chicken in so long! Thank you Mrs. Arlert!” My lips pulled up into a happy smile, my saddened thoughts from before completely pushed from my brain at the thought of eating actual meat. It had been a while indeed.

So I rushed into the kitchen I had gotten familiar with and sat next to my blond buddy. “You feeling better Armin?”   
  
“Yeah.. I still have the sniffles but I’m feeling better,” My friend replied with a small smile.    
  
“Good! I have something awesome to show you,”   
  
“Really?”   
  
“Yep! Look,” I gave him a wide grin, showing off the gap my missing tooth left in my mouth. “The baby ones are all almost gone now,”   
  
“Wow! I hope you get money for food from the tooth fairy,”   
  
“Uhm.. Armin.. The tooth fairy isn’t real.. or she just doesn't like me. I’ve never gotten money from her. Maybe my teeth are bad..,”   
  
“Eren sweetie I’m sure it’s just hard for her to find you in that trailer. Perhaps she will make it up to you in the future,” Mr. Arlert, Armin’s dad, suggested with a smile to convince me. And I was convinced.

“Yeah you’re right! Wow I can’t wait, with all these teeth falling out, I’ll be rich! I’ll be able to buy mama and I food and a house and nice clothes,”

I didn’t catch onto the saddened looks I received from Armin’s parents.


	4. Now

“It’s still snowing,” I commented the morning of December 15th, 2009. I had just woken up, it was only eleven in the morning on a Tuesday. Though I wasn’t in school. I wouldn’t be until the third of January. In all honesty, I really wasn’t excited about returning back to the sixth grade. It ran in my mind each morning I got closer to attending the school near Grisha’s house, how the orientation at my new school went, and it made me sigh.

My impression of the students wasn’t particularly horrible, I did hear plenty of kids call me skinny, but I didn’t blame them. After nine years of almost starving with _her_ , my body found it hard to gain much weight. But even those comments didn’t affect me. I’ve heard them all before at the schools I attended in the past. I lost track of how many schools I’ve been too… nine? ten maybe? Or maybe I was over exaggerating. Even so, I wouldn’t be with this school long. My brain had been wired over the years to think so.

“It is indeed,” Grisha’s voice sounded distant, he was holding the morning paper in one hand, coffee mug in the other. He was focusing hard on what he read, his brows were pinched together, eyes moving side to side quickly. I wondered what he was reading. “You should go out and play,”   
  
“By myself? No thanks,” I sat down at the table across from him and just watching Grisha with a bored expression.

“What about that boy next door? You were supposed to introduce yourself a while ago,” Ah.. Yeah that was right. I was supposed to introduce myself when I first visited Grisha’s home, but..

It wasn’t snowing that day, but the ground was still frozen as I discovered once i got out of Grisha’s car. He drove me to his home, my suitcase was in the trunk. I didn’t pack much, because I didn’t own a lot, and also because I was only visiting for the night. In the morning Grisha would drive me back to the Braus’s home. I really didn’t think much of this.

But as I got out of the car I felt a wave of nervousness overcome me. It was like someone was jumbling up my insides, I didn’t know why either. So I ignored it and grabbed my suitcase. “I can bring that inside,” Grisha offered as I lugged the black thing across the ground.

“I got it,” I said, but still the man took the suitcase from me. 

“Why don’t you go say hello,”    
  
“To who?”   
  
“That boy, remember?”   
  
“I will later..,”   
  
But I never did, not up to this point anyways. 

“I don’t want to introduce myself yet..,”   
  
“You’re just shy Eren. How about we go over together?”   
  
“Uh nah..,"

He didn’t argue further with me. Grisha’s attention went back to the newspaper, his lips curling around the mugs edge as he slurped another sip of hot coffee.   


The room was dead silent, a stack of toast and a plate of eggs and bacon in the centre of the table beckoned my hungry stomach. I supposed it was meant for me, Grisha was not eating it, so I pulled everything near me and ate all of it. As much as I could fit in my mouth, I ate. I could be described as a starved lion finally eating his meal, he ate everything, almost the bones even. The lion didn’t know if he would get another feast like this. Neither did I. Nothing was ever consistent in my life. 

So those three buttered toasts, eight strips of crispy bacon, and perhaps two scrambled up fluffy eggs were down my gullet in minutes. Eating so fast left me panting, I felt sick but so full. It was a feeling I wanted to indulge myself in, and so I ate lunch in the same manner. Dinner as well. 

This earned me a curious brow raised at me by Grisha. He watched whilst I ate, always allowed me to take what I wanted before he served himself. Told me to slow down, that my mouth didn’t need to be full at all times. He said the food would always be available to me, I didn’t need to gorge myself, make myself ill. But my brain couldn’t believe him. So I ate, and I ate and ate until my tummy felt like a balloon about to burst. It always deflated after the food digested. No matter how much I ate, I remained so thin. I knew this worried Grisha. He knew how much of a cow I was when I ate, but I looked like I hardly ate anything. 

Everyone pointed this out, on that January third; my first day of grade six. I was the new kid. Not shy, nor interested in socialising. But that didn’t stop the other children from calling me chicken arms and stick boy. The way they laughed after those words left their lips was repulsive. How could children behave to crudely.. Of course, I had to understand they were spoilt. They were immature because of this. But that gave them no excuse. So I replied to those comments with a smile of my own. “Ha ha, yeah you’re right. I do have chicken arms, and I do resemble sticks huh? At least I’m not a two-chinned pig, though. Now wouldn’t that be disgusting,” Then I snickered in their faces.

That was how I became the least liked kid in the class- the classes punching bag, you could say. Almost everyone took their turn trying to take a stab at my iron wall, the same wall that kept everyone out. But they failed. I only let myself reply back that one time. I didn’t give them a reaction. Only when I got home after such a long day, did I let those words sink deep into my flesh. Where they remained bottled. I would not let over privileged children hurt me.

Perhaps it was my eight day at that new school that I got approached by a fellow boy. I was at my desk, eating lunch in my hurried fashion as per usual. When I looked up, he did not look happy at all. So I braced myself for the worst his lips could send at me. 

But his lips didn’t spout any words at all. Rather, he sat at the vacant desk next to mine, his lunch bag sat off balanced next to mine. And he didn’t say a word.

“Um… what do you want?” I eventually asked as he took out an orange from his bag, sat back in the uncomfortable grey seat, and start peeling it. His brows were furrowed in concentration. The line between them disappeared when I spoke.   
  
“Peeling my orange. What, are you blind now?” I blinked a few times after he spoke. His choice of words.. The way he spoke them.. Really reminded me of myself. How odd.    
  
“Not that I know of,” I turned my gaze away from him and went back to stuffing my mouth. That didn’t stop me from talking though. “But I was asking why you sat here,”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full. Your parents ever teach you manners?” His words made me feel cold. As if they brought clouds to my chest which freezing rain fell from, that froze over everything inside me. 

“No. My parents didn’t teach me manners, actually,” I continued to speak with my mouth stuffed just to spite him. His comment might have been innocent- he couldn’t have known about my family. But I still felt resentment towards his words. They were cruel in such an innocent way, and I hated it. It was worse than being called a twig.

“Well tell them to then,”    
  
Oh, only if I could. Mother could have taught me a lot of things if it weren’t for her-

“Anyways. Your name’s Eren right? I’m Levi. Pleasure to meet ya,”   
  
The pleasure definitely was not mine.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is: the-kanta  
> if you wanna hmu


End file.
